His Rightful Place
by Lt. Basil
Summary: "So you find more importance in your position than in the life of an innocent person? I would pity any country with a man like you as their king." In which Kristoff gives Hans what he deserves... sort of. Rated for violence. NO YAOI. Hans fans beware - he receives no love in this. One-shot.


**A/N: I'm not going to lie, originally; I really liked Hans. Then he left Anna to die and almost skewered Elsa. Needless to say, I hate his guts now. That being said, I loved the idea of Kristoff confronting him after the events of the movie (I was kind of disappointed when he didn't get to punch him, though Anna knocking him into the fjord was still very satisfying...) so I wrote this. **

**Please review! And if you're a Hans fan, you probably shouldn't read this... there's a lot of Hans abuse in it...**

Despite the warmth of the summer sun outside the castle, the dungeons were as cold and damp as ever. Hans sat huddled on the stone floor, hugging his arms to his chest in a vain attempt to keep himself from freezing. Ice coated the walls of his cell, courtesy of Elsa – when she found out what he had done, she coated the cell in magic, effectively turning him into a living popsicle. Given that he had been thrown in while he was still dripping wet from Anna knocking him into the fjord... let's just say he'd had better days. To add insult to injury, Elsa had made sure that any water he received was first frozen solid, so he had to lick it or melt it with his body heat just to keep himself hydrated. All in all, he'd definitely been better.

The sound of the metal door opening pulled Hans from his miserable slump; he raised his head glumly, taking note of the large man who had just entered. He was tall, that was for sure – much taller than even Hans' oldest brother – and built like an ox, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with toned arms obviously formed through a life of strenuous labor. Despite his size, the man was fairly young-looking, with bright eyes the color of wet sand and a smooth face. Dirty blond hair hung in his eyes, holding an eternally windswept look to it. He appeared to be about the same age as (or perhaps even a little younger than) Queen Elsa. And he was also glaring at Hans with a look of such utter loathing that the prince was unable to look him in the eye. Why, he didn't know – he regretted nothing that he had done... but he had a feeling that this man wasn't here to offer his condolences about the discomfort of his housing.

With a hollow _clunk, _the door slammed shut behind him, and the prince of the Southern Isles found himself alone in a locked room with a man who looked like he wanted nothing more than to tear him limb from limb. Swallowing hard, Hans looked up to meet the man's eyes. That glare had not relented in the least; if anything, it had merely intensified. Now, the prince had seen a lot of dirty looks thrown his way over the past two days, but not even Anna's eyes had reflected the level of hatred that this newcomer was giving him. Despite himself, his stomach began to churn uncomfortably and his palms started sweating.

The strange man crossed his arms. "_So..._"

Hans gulped. "So?" he asked, perhaps a little too innocently. He noticed the man's no doubt rock hard fists clench threateningly.

"So you're the scumbag who almost got Anna killed," he spat out, his voice dangerously calm, his eyes filled to the brim with burning wrath. The stranger took a step towards Hans, then, with a look of pure hate twisting his otherwise gentle face. Scooting back as far as his chains would allow, the prince began desperately trying to come up with some type of response to stay the man's hand, but he could think of nothing. Not that anything he said would make much of a difference, anyway, if the wild look in the other's eyes was anything to go by.

"You know," the man continued, "I always knew that what you and her supposedly had couldn't have _possibly _been true love, but this... what you did to her..." he shook his head in disgust. "Just... wow. Who knew that anyone could be such a _monster?_" His voice rose in volume, changing from a furious whisper to an almost jaw-shattering shout in a matter of seconds. "You know, I thought that sending her to you might be her only chance to survive, but _boy _was I _wrong!_ You just left her to _die!_" Taking another step forward, he hoisted Hans up by the front of his shirt and yanked him in such a way that they were at eye level. Hans choked, feeling his hand press mercilessly against his throat, making it difficult to breathe. If the man noticed, he didn't seem to care.

It was ridiculous. This man – this _peasant _– had him by the throat, and all he could do was choke in response? He was prince Hans. No commoner had the right to do such a thing to him. Baring his teeth, he managed to growl out, "Unhand me, _peasant_."

This time, the man actually _did _start to choke him, his hand exerting more and more pressure on his throat until he couldn't even swallow, let alone breathe. "I don't take orders from trash like _you!_" the stranger snarled, blowing hot, foul-smelling breath into the prince's face. Wincing, the redhead tried to struggle free, but the blonde had other ideas. He pulled back one of his gigantic fists and punched the prince square in the nose, sending blood spurting from his left nostril and earning a shriek of pain from the victim. Only then was Hans released, gasping on the frozen floor and nursing the flow of blood that had started oozing down his face.

"Don't you know who you're dealing with?" Hans choked out, wiping his now very wet, very red nose with the sleeve of his shirt. "When my father hears about what you've done..."

"Then he'll disown you for attempting to murder both the queen and princess of Arendelle and remind me to break your arms and legs along with your nose," his attacker snapped, not even the slightest hint of either pity _or _fear in his voice. This was a man who truly despised Hans of the Southern Isles. His eyes burned into Hans, pinning him down with an accusatory stare so sharp and merciless that he barely dared to twitch out of fear of the man taking that as a reason to finish him off. So he was surprised, therefore, when the man yanked a piece of cloth from the inside of his pocket and hurled it at him. "Use that for your nose," he grunted, no less apathetic towards him than before. He then turned away dismissively. Still, the gesture surprised Hans.

"You... you're not going to kill me?" he asked, disbelieving. The other man snorted.

"Kill you? What do you take me for?" he bit back, glaring daggers at the prisoner. "No, _your majesty –_," his voice dripped with sarcasm at the last two words. "I'm not like you. I don't kill someone if they're helpless. Punch you, choke you, that's one thing." He glanced back at him with an irritated expression on his face. "You'll be back to your stupid, weaselly self in a few weeks. But I'm no murderer... unlike SOMEONE that I know."

"It was the only way..." Hans mumbled, earning a derisive snort from the blonde man. "It was the only way for me to move up in the world." The blonde scowled.

"So you find more importance in your _position _than in the life of an innocent person?" he retorted. "I would pity any country with a man like you as their king. I _myself _have never understood how people like you even _live _with yourselves. Besides..." his gaze grew even harsher, if that were possible. "Anna is... you almost killed one of the only friends that I have. You think I give a _reindeer's crap _about your _place in the world!?_ Not on your life!" He wagged his head, shaggy blonde hair flicking every which way with the movement.

Despite the vulnerable position he was in, Hans laughed out loud at the man's remark. "Oh, I get it. You fell in love with her and sent her back to me anyway?" The blonde opened his mouth in protest, but he was already laughing again. "How very noble of you. How very _pathetic, _but noble."

The ice harvester narrowed his eyes. "It was more than you'd ever done. You're not even _capable _of caring about anyone but yourself." Turning away again, he pulled out his set of the keys and unlocked the cell door. Before he stepped out, though, he paused and added, "Oh, and Elsa wanted me to tell you that it's going to get even colder tonight, so you _might _want to think about coming up with ways to avoid freezing to death tonight. Just so you know." The next thing Hans knew, he'd slipped out the door and slammed it shut, leaving him alone once more.

Kristoff Bjorgman had nothing more to say to him.


End file.
